


Kindertale

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Kindertale, kid AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5176106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monsters are dangerous, every human knows this. So when 22 year old Frisk finds a group of tiny monsters in their backyard, they are (reasonably) surprised and confused.<br/>[fic by me-myself-and-the-paradox on tumblr! posted with permission]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Looking back on it, you’re not sure what first wakes you. Maybe it was the quiet patter of the rain tapping against your window. The early winter storms were always persistent, but not yet violent at this time of year. Or maybe it was a creaking floorboard. Your tiny house was fairly old, after all, and a few bumps in the night were to be expected.  


Whatever the reason was, it didn’t change the fact that you had suddenly found yourself wide awake at-you glance at the clock, muffling a groan when you see what time it is. Five twenty two. You still had to get up and go to work at seven. With a loud huff, you bundle yourself up in blankets, roll over, and hold perfectly still for exactly three minutes and forty-eight seconds. Despite your efforts, the sleepiness is rapidly draining from your head and limbs, making you itch to get up and move. You concede defeat with a sigh, slipping out of the blankets and letting your feet touch the floor with a shiver.  


Padding downstairs and across the hardwood floor to kitchen, you turn on a light and start the coffee pot. The old machine wheezes to life, heated water spluttering down into pitcher. Well versed with the time it takes to boil enough water, you leave the room in search of your sandals. You slip them on quietly, shivering a little in your thin flannel pajamas as you step outside, closing the thin screen door behind you with a snap. The world is painted in hues of greys and blues, the overcast skies blocking any glimpse of sunrise. It’s probably not for a few more hours anyway. You quickly check over your sunflower plants, setting most of the little seedlings right side up again. It’s a little strange that so many are knocked over, but you chalk it up to the slight breeze that’s kicking up.  


You’re about to head back inside when you catch a glimpse of movement, a flicker of color out of the corner of your eye.  


You stop, turning to look. In the bushes bordering your little yard, there’s a little yellow…tail? You suddenly don’t feel cold anymore, the adrenaline rising and stealing your breath as you spot a pair of horns and a bit of pure red hair sticking up out of the bushes.  


Your instincts war with each other, driving any remaining drowsiness from your mind. You’re tense and alert, but the things in the bushes haven’t noticed yet. You hope. You hesitate for a moment, but then your curiosity wins out. You force yourself to step into the yard, treading as quietly as you can. The bushes seem to loom menacingly in the dark, the sound of your breathing and the pounding of your heartbeat drowning out any other sounds. You pause, gathering your determination, and then you leap out from behind the bush- and right into a circle of monsters.  


At first glance, you’re surprised. The largest is no bigger than a nine year old human, and the smallest looks like a baby. At second glance, you become concerned. None of them are in good condition, sporting small injuries and torn clothing.  


Before you can react, however, they jump to their feet, screaming and running or trying to fight. You dodge a fireball and jump to avoid a metal rod swung at your legs. The tiny spear nearly smacks into your chest before you bend backwards, the projectile sailing harmlessly into the darkness. The small monsters regroup, huddling together and looking up at you fearfully. Your heart pangs at the mistrust in their eyes.  


The fire fizzles out, leaving you in near darkness. They wait expectantly, staring into your soul. Now that they’re still, you can see what they are. Two white, goat-like monsters tremble quietly, their white fur soaked and mussed. Beside them, a blue-skinned girl with the flaming red hair you saw earlier clutches at a small yellow lizard, both frozen with fear. A small skeleton in a sodden grey shirt cradles a little red bundle, which, upon further inspection, looks like an even smaller skeleton. Just a baby. You look at them, your heart sinking. Kids. They’re just kids, all of them. The baby skeleton starts crying in the silence, his howling only augmented by the pattering of the light rain. The other skeleton shifts, glancing at you suspiciously before turning his attention to the crying child. 

“C'mon, Pap, please.” He pleads, gently rocking the bundle. You find your voice again.

“Pap? Is that his name?” Your voice is hoarse and low-sounding, even to you. The skeleton- no, child, he’s just a kid- jumps, whipping his gaze back up to focus on you.

“Papyrus.” His response is short and curt, but it fills you with hope. 

“Papyrus. That’s a good name.” You offer, trying to sound gentle. It seems to work, some of the kids relaxing. The fish girl looks at you suspiciously, but loosens her grip on her friend.

“What’s your name?” The shorter of the white monsters is looking at you intently. You take a deep breath, looking them all in the eyes as you reply. 

"My name is Frisk.“


	2. Chapter 2

Convincing the monsters to trust you is a slow process, but you’ve found if you keep your voice soft and treat them like the kids at the daycare, they tend to respond better. Getting them into the house and cleaned up, however, is an entirely different battle. 

On the bright side, you now know why your sunflowers had been knocked over. They wouldn’t explain what happened, but you’re a little too focused on the task at hand to worry about it. You’re currently trying to wash Toriel and Asgore, the white-furred monsters. After calling in sick to both your jobs, you’d thrown on a random cartoon for Alphys and Undyne, fish girl and lizard respectively, and they’d fallen in love with it instantly. Sans seemed to be content watching Papyrus scribble on printer paper with some old crayons you scrounged up. You trust the older skeleton to keep his little brother from moving his color station from his paper to the table or the wall, but you still feel anxious about leaving them all unsupervised. Toriel’s fur is soft under your fingers, clumped together in spots with soap. You glance over at Asgore, who is facing the other direction. You don’t know much about monster etiquette, but they agreed to share a bath as long as they were facing opposite directions. You don’t want to make it awkward, but your options are kind of limited. You jolt as a loud crash echoes from downstairs, nearly splashing water out of the tub. 

“I’ll be right back.” You blurt out, throwing a couple towels at Asgore and Toriel. “Dry yourselves off.”

Once you’re out of the bathroom, you sprint down the stairs, nearly tripping as you rush to find out what the noise was. You stop and stare at the utter destruction zone that used to be your living room. 

“Hey Frisk! What’s hanging?” Sans calls to you with a grin. You stare up at him, where he’s dangling from the coatrack by the hood of his jacket. The coffee table has been flipped and pillows from the couch have been strewn across the room. Undyne is standing on the couch yelling and gesturing wildly while Alphys lies laughing on the floor. There’s a strange anime on the TV and Papyrus is eating the crayons. Praying that crayons aren’t poisonous to skeletons (do they even eat?) You scoop up the skele-toddler with one hand, unhooking Sans from the coatrack with the other before turning back to the girls.

“What is going on in here?” You demand, your voice a little louder than you’d normally like. Alphys jumps up immediately, looking panicked, but Undyne just shrugs.

“We’re having fun. Have you seen this anime?!” Her excitement is palpable, and your resolve quavers for a moment. Maybe this is normal in monster culture? You know next to nothing about monsters and their lives. Then you remember that you’re not the only human living in this area and if the others found out about your little monster squad, they would be nowhere near as friendly as you. You would be arrested for treason, and god only knows what would happen to the kids. You are determined not to let that happen. 

“Undyne, you guys have destroyed the living room. You’re making so much noise one of the neighbors might hear.” You explain as gently as you can, but your panic lends a harsh edge to your tone. “If anybody heard you, we would all get caught.” Undyne quiets down, staring at you with big horrified eyes.

“We-we didn’t mean to!” She blurts out, jumping down from the couch and standing in front of you, wringing her hands. “We were just messing around, please don’t be mad! I can’t fight the humans yet, don’t throw us out!” You’re shocked by her sudden outburst, the complete drop of her “tough girl” facade. From the way she acted, you had unconsciously started to think of her as more mature, and this was the reminder you needed that she was still a child. You pass Papyrus to his brother and kneel so you can look Undyne in the eye. 

“I know you didn’t mean to, and I know you’re scared and far from home. It’s not your fault, I shouldn’t have yelled at you, but we need to set some ground rules.” You explain, keeping your voice soft. Undyne nods, recovering her cool. You offer her a way out, a strategy you use on kids at work.

“How about we have lunch and then figure out some house rules?” She lights up, nodding enthusiastically. Alphys slowly joins you, seeming yo have recovered from her earlier scare. Sans gives you an easy thumbs up, like he’s trying to reassure you as much as you’re trying to reassure Undyne. You smile gratefully, leading your little crew to the kitchen, heating some water for spaghetti as Toriel and Asgore rejoin you. As the warm chatter fills the kitchen, it takes you a moment to realize that Undyne had said she wasn’t strong enough to fight humans yet. As though they were a different species than you. It’s in that moment that you realize they’ve accepted you as one of theirs. There’s no going back now. And even more surprising? You’re actually quite okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo hoo! new chap, once again everything goes to me-my-self-and-the-paradox! i should have been more specific, they have written everything and posted it to tumblr, i've just been posting to ao3 because they dont have an account here.  
> hope you enjoyed, send all your love to me-myself-and-the-paradox and kindertale on tumblr!


	3. Chapter 3

As much as you are loathe to do so, you have to leave the kids at home alone the next day. You’d had strep throat last month and used up most of your sick days, and you were rather inclined to keep your jobs. 

First thing in the morning, you’re up at six-thirty, foregoing your usual early morning coffee in favor of letting Alphys and Undyne sleep. The two were curled up on the couch, snoring gently. Their blanket was thrown over the recently-uprighted table, kicked off in the night. You drape it over them again, smiling to yourself. A quick check into the guest bedroom proved that the other four are asleep too, nestled into a pile of blankets you’d pulled out of some long-forgotten closet. 

You leave a note for them on the table, informing them that Toriel is charge, there’s some left over spaghetti in the fridge, and you’ll be back at six-thirty. On second thought, you also add your phone number and tell them to call you if they have any issues. You’re not entirely satisfied with it, but if you hesitate much longer, you’ll be late for work.

You set your shoulders, grabbing your bag and heading for the door. It’s chilly out, and you shiver despite your sweater. You pull the door shut behind you as quietly as you can, still hyper aware of Alphys and Undyne sleeping in the other room. As you stare at the door, a wave of panic crashes over you. What are you doing? As much experience as you have dealing with human kids from the daycare, you know nothing about monsters. You can’t take care of them, you’ll end up getting them…killed. The gravity of the situation hangs above you, but you can’t afford to slip into despair right now. You promise yourself to go to the library later and find some old dusty tome from the Monster War and see if that does you any good. But for now, if you don’t start running, you’re going to miss the bus. You fish your pass out of your bag, jogging down the street. You make it with a minute to spare, already getting in the mindset for your first job. You work the morning shift from eight till noon at a local cafe before heading over to the daycare for the afternoon routine from one till six. The hours were good, and the pay was okay, so you really couldn’t complain. Right now, though, the last thing you wanted to be doing was spending a whole day away from home.

~

“Yeah, I’ll see you later!” You yell back, hanging up your drab green apron as you scurry out the back door. You let out a deep breath, slouching against the wall, digging around in your pocket for your phone. A flashing icons catches your attention, informing you that you have four unread messages. Nerves start jangling in your stomach as you play the first one, walking slowly towards the bus stop.

“H-hi Frisk! Alphys h-here, um, do you-possibly-know how to start the oven? N-not that you should come home and show us how to start the oven, you’re busy at work, I know you are, I’ll just. Um. Bye.” A tingle of fear trickles down your spine. Suddenly you don’t feel the winter chill anymore. You select the second voice recording, apprehension making you feel nauseous.

“Friskwe’resorrywedidn’tmeantoitwasanaccident-” Alphys babbles incoherently, making your head spin. The message cuts off abruptly and you automatically play the next one.

“HEY FRISK!!!WHAT’S UP?!!” Undyne’s voice screeches. You instantly slap your hand your hand over the phone, looking around in a panic. There’s nobody nearby, so you cautiously remove your hand from the speaker. “- so we tried to make spaghetti ourselves and the stove caught FIRE!!!” Undyne jabbers excitedly. You’re near the edge of a breakdown now, panicking about all the things that could have gone wrong. They could have set fire to the house, somebody could have called the cops, they could have been found- A calm, clear voice cuts through the haze of your rising hysteria, soothing and gentle.

“Undyne, may I have the phone, please?” Toriel asks.

“Hmm? Oh!! Sure thing, Toriel!!”

“Hello, Frisk! You haven’t been answering your phone, so I assume you’re occupied with work.” She speaks like someone much older, simultaneously putting you on your guard and appeasing your fears. “The stovetop caught fire when Undyne was trying to teach Papyrus how to cook spaghetti. It’s alright now, Sans helped me douse the flame and now we’re cleaning up. We’re all safe, and the incident doesn’t seem to have alerted the neighbors. Hope you’re alright. Goodbye.”

You breath a silent sigh of relief, closing your eyes for a few seconds. You trust that Toriel has got it under control and it’s probably safe to keep going. The fourth and final message blinks at you expectantly, and you’re probably pushing your luck, but nobody else is at the bus stop yet so you turn the volume down and listen.

“Heya Frisk.” Sans’ smooth voice sounds upbeat but mellow. “Just figured we’d give you an update. Asgore is distracting Undyne with “warrior training” out back -” you tense “- but Toriel made them promise to stay out of sight.” You relax again. “Toriel herself is reading to Alphys to calm her down, and Paps finally fell asleep.” Sans continues. “Hope your day is sans-tastic. See you later.” You laugh a little at his joke, and part of you starts to hope that maybe, just maybe, this could turn out well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo hoo! new chapter, again by me-myself-and-the-paradox! hope you enjoy.


	4. Chapter 4

After a long day of- well, daycare- all you want in the world is to go home and sleep. However, there’s a lot you know you need to do before you can pass out. You still need that book on monsters, and while you’re thinking about it, the kids looked like they needed some new clothes. You’ll have to go shopping soon anyway, so why not add it to your list? That’s a task for tomorrow, though. For now, you’ll be happy if you can just get the book and get home.   
The library is only a block or so from the daycare, so you decide to forgo the bus. The slush from last week’s snow is melting sadly into the storm drains, and the salt thrown down to help speed up the process crunches under your feet as you take the concrete steps up to the library entrance two at a time. The door opens without a creak, and it takes your eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dim lighting. You’re surprised by how few people are here, but after all, it is a Friday afternoon.   
You barely breath as you edge your way over to the history section. You shake your head a little. This is ridiculous. You’re checking out a book, nothing more. It’s not like it’s illegal or anything. After all, if they didn’t want you to read it, they wouldn’t put it out in the open to be read, right?  
Twenty minutes later, you have firmly decided that they do not want you to read it and have either burned any books written about monsters and the war or hidden them under the endless volumes of Brittanica’s Encyclopedia, never to be discovered again. Frustration is rapidly clouding your head, and you’re just about to concede defeat and head home when a voice interupts your brooding.   
“Are you alright? You look a little upset.” You glance up, meeting a pair of teal eyes. She smiles, the faded red bow in her dirty blonde hair fluttering cutely as she sits down next to you.   
“Yeah, I’m just a little tired, that’s all. I had a rough day at work, and now I can’t find the book I need and I kind of need to be getting home soon.” You admit, the words bubbling out of your mouth without thought. You tense, waiting for her reaction. She simply laughs, light and clear as a bell, smiling sympathetically.   
“Oh, don’t worry, all you need is a little patience, and you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Her wink is light and friendly. “I think the book you want might be over there.” She waves her hand vaguely in the direction of an alcove you’d missed in your searching, though you’re not sure how.   
“Hey, thanks!” You say, feeling your positivity return. “That was really-” you turn back to her and find yourself alone. The librarian yawns boredly three rows down, but there’s no one else in sight. Your eyes catch on a flash of red by the floor. The girl’s ribbon. You watch as your hand reaches out and picks it up, almost as though you had no control over it. You pocket it, and the moment passes. You hurry over to the alcove, trying your best to brush away the lingering feeling of a tranquility that isn’t your own.   
~~~   
You step out into the chilly air, wrapping your jacket more tightly around you. The heavy tome you’d discovered presses comfortingly against your side. You breath in, letting the cold air soothe your lungs, frosty steam billowing out of your mouth as you exhale. The short bus ride home passes in a flash, and the next thing you know, you’re thanking the driver as you step onto the slick pavement. The waning winter sun filters weakly through the leaves as you walk home, casting flecks of golden light across the sidewalk. Your shoes scuff the concrete as you hop over the steps and take out your key, opening the door quietly.   
“Heya Frisk!” Sans chirps, sliding off the couch to come greet you. Alphys and Undyne skid into the room, followed calmly by Toriel. Asgore appears from the living room, and two others join them. Your little group clusters around you, excitedly asking about your day and telling you about theirs. You laugh as you’re overwhelmed by the little monsters, affectionately shaking your head. You pick Sans up, being careful of his hood and the tiny sleeping Papyrus in it. Your hand goes to pat someone on the head and…your hand slips right through them. You freeze, taking a second look. There are more than six monsterlings here.   
“Hey guys?” You start as calmly as you can, though you can feel San’s worried look and see Toriel’s questioning expression. “I think you forgot to introduce me to some people.”


	5. Chapter 5

You carefully inspect the pair of tiny ghosts, your mind whirring with half-formed thoughts and ideas. They had been introduced to you as Mettaton, the self-proclaimed star, and Napstablook, who had apologized profusely through hiccups and tears. (For what, you still aren’t sure.) Mettaton’s flamboyant pink color complemented his vibrant personality, and Napstablook’s muted blue glowed weakly, almost fearful, much like the ghost themself.   
From what you’d managed to get out of them, between Mettaton’s endless chattering and Nabsta’s pathetic sobbing, the pair followed your little group to the end of the Ruins, a series of collapsed buildings under Mt.Ebott. There, they’d watched as the kids were attacked by a…flower monster? Who’d hurled them out of the Underground and to the surface world. You can’t imagine the amount of power a creature would have to have to do that, but the very idea sends shivers down your spine. You refocus on the patchwork narrative, listening as Mettaton dramatically retells their escapade of sneaking past the flower-creature and escaping to the surface. 

“And then we came to find you!!!” He chirps, looking at you expectantly. The sound of Papyrus eating dry spaghetti filters from the kitchen as you try to process this. 

“So you can pass between the Underground and here?” You finally ask, hoping your theory is right. Metta stops uncertainly, shares a look with Blooky, and shrugs. 

“Sure, we think. I mean, we flew up here, didn’t we?” 

“Can you carry the others back down to the Underground?” You press on. Mettaton looks shocked. 

“We…hadn’t thought about that.” Blooky whispers. “I don’t think so, though. They’d pass right through us. Sorry…” You sigh a little, feeling bad for getting your hopes up, and worse for making the little ghost upset. 

“It’s okay, Blooky.” You say, smiling at the ghost. “It was just an idea. You don’t need to be sorry.” You check the clock and jump when you see the time. “It’s getting late, I probably need to get the other kids to bed.” You explain hastily, scrambling to your feet and gathering up the crayons and scratch paper from the table. “Do-um, do ghosts need sleep?” You ask, dumping the crayons in a plastic bag. Blooky shakes his head, and Mettaton explains.

“We don’t have to, but sometimes we can sort of…turn ourselves off? It helps us heal faster, and I know I need my beauty sleep!” He adds with a wink. You nod, mentally filing that information under the rapidly expanding “Monsters” part of your brainspace. 

“Would you like to sleep here tonight?” You offer. 

“I don’t know, we might just hold you down…” Blooky starts uncertainly, and you feel a wrenching sympathy for this little ghost, this tiny child who was already so scared of being a bother that they tried to simply fade into the background. You put the pile of drawings on the table and crouch in front of the ghost, looking them in the eye. 

“Blooky, we would love it if you and Mettaton stayed the night.” You say sincerely, smiling with all the compassion you can muster. Blooky looks a little better, and Mettaton looks ecstatic.

“Thanks, Frisk!!!” The pink ghost calls, zipping into the kitchen to tell his friends. There’s a bit of laughter and cheering, and you relax a little, laughing some yourself. Despite the initial shock of their arrival, you have a feeling these two ghosts will quickly settle in.  
~~~~~  
The brown paint is still drying as you step back to admire your work. Sans fidgets, his tiny bone fingers clicking together restlessly.

“Can I see now?” He asks plaintively, a note of impatience coloring his voice. After two days of being stuck inside, the kids are starting to catch cabin fever. Fortunately, a miraculous drop in temperature immediately reduced the number of people outside, so you decide you can risk letting the kids play in the snow, as long as they’re bundled up enough to hide their little horns and tails. The skele-brothers were simultaneously the easiest and hardest to disguise. For one, they were human shaped, with no extra appendages or features. On the other hand, they didn’t have eyes. Or a nose. Or skin. So the best you could really do was whip up some non-toxic acrylic paint (you’d checked the bottle four times, just to be sure) and call on whatever was left of your high school art lessons. It’d come out better than you hoped, though the contrast of the blush is nagging at you.

“Hold on.” You say, snatching up the palette with an apologetic glance. Sans sighs, scrunching up his face as you try to touch up the red in his cheeks. After a few more minutes of muttering and mixing, you’re satisfied. Putting aside the paint supplies and pulling out the winter outfits, You toss Sans a pair of little gloves, cutely patterned with criss-crossing bones. You’d found them at the store and couldn’t resist. He laughs, slipping them on. You smile, wrapping his freshly washed scarf over his “nose.” You’d offered to get him a new one, but he’d refused to part with either his scarf or his coat. Not that you could blame him. It seemed like he’d had them for a very long time. You pass him a pair of round sunglasses and a light purple fleece hat before showing him to the mirror. It’s almost strange how different he looks, yet still the same. You glance at Sans, trying to judge his reaction. His mouth is hidden by the scarf, but you can tell he’s smiling.

“Gee Frisk,” he says, his voice muffled. “I didn’t realize you were such a sans-tastic artist.” It takes you a second to catch the pun, and then you burst out laughing.

“Go on,” you giggle, herding him out the back door. “Pap is waiting for you, I’ll get on my coat and join you.” Sans laughs and skips out the door, calling out to his friends. You open the closet, drag out your waterproof jacket, and nearly jump ten feet when you spin around and find Napstablook floating sadly behind you.

“Hey, Blooky, you scared me there.” As the adrenaline spike fades, you notice the small ghost is looking a little bluer than normal. “Is everything alright?” They nod, hesitating for a moment.

“I guess I just…wanted to thank you…for letting us stay here…I’m sorry…this is awkward…” Napstablook turned a darker blue.

“No! No, it’s okay. We like having you here, honestly!” You give them a patient smile, hoping that it will help. It seems to, and Blooky lightens a bit.

“Really..?” They ask, their voice quavering but hopeful. You relax into a genuine smile, answering honestly.

“Yeah, we really do.” There’s a beat of silence. “Do you wanna come out and join us?” You offer.

“I guess…if that’s okay with you…” They start, looking at you hopefully. You nod, opening the door.

“Let’s go join them, then.” You step through the door and into the snow, with Napstablook floating by your side. You can already hear the others’ laughter floating through the air.


	6. Chapter 6

The warmth of the coffee slowly seeps through your body, settling in your fingers and toes. The laughter of the kids is still ringing in your ears, even though it’s well past nine and they were all put to bed hours ago. After a long day in the snow, even the thick-furred Toriel and Asgore were starting to shiver. At that point, you’d wisely decided to call it quits, promising hot chocolate to appease the more reluctant children. You’re feeling strangely warm inside, and it has nothing to do with your beverage. You don’t remember much of your own family, only that it was unhappy and colder than the frigid night outside your frosted windows.

You’d run away at a young age and fallen in with a group of other lost children, and stayed with them until you’d found homes at an orphanage or been adopted. You couldn’t remember much of them either, but that warm feeling of home, of family, was something that had never left you. A creak on the stairs snaps you out of your memories and you sit up straight, trying to look alert for whoever’s awake and up. A patch of yellow hesitates at the edge of the light, and you relax as you realize who it is. 

“Come on out Alphys. It’s alright, I’m not mad.” You say reassuringly as the little lizard-girl freezes, then cautiously creeps into the kitchen. Her eyes are red and tired, and her tiny claws click together anxiously as she wrings her hands together. 

“H-hey Frisk.” She starts nervously, jumping when you pull out a chair for her. She pauses, and then scrambles up into the seat next to you. “So, uh, how are you?” 

“A little tired, but I’m doing pretty well.” You answer gently, trying not to spook her. She’s clearly worried over something, and no matter how small that thing is, you want to help her with it.''

“I was thinking…” She pauses, looking up at you for guidance. You nod, turning to face her. “There are two ways out of the Underground, r-right? W-well, we obviously can’t go back the way we came, t-that fall would k-kill a monster-” she squeaks, pausing to take a breath. “M-maybe we could find the other way in?” You stare at her for a second, trying to process that. 

“There’s another way back to the underground?” You choke out finally, and Alphys nods. “Oh.”

“Are you okay, Frisk?” Alphys asks worriedly. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” You manage. “Is that all?” 

“W-well, yeah…” Alphys suddenly looks self-conscious. You lean over and give her a hug, trying to make she doesn’t feel at fault for your sudden moodiness.

“Thank you for telling me, Alphys. Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now?”

“Yeah, I-I think I will.” She smiles gratefully.

You help her back to bed, tucking her in and wishing her good night. You close the door quietly, leaning against it with a sigh. You drop the smile, marveling at the sudden change in your own demeanor. This was good news, right? The kids could go home. 

So why did it make you feel so hollow inside?

~~~

The next morning, you’re up and ready to leave for work when there’s a knock at the door. You pause, wondering who could be paying you a visit this early in the morning. You pad over to the door, opening it carelessly- and then it takes all of your willpower not to slam the door with a scream. 

"Good morning, Frisk!” The woman on the other side of the door says cheerily, despite the fact that the sun is barely peeking over the horizon. You force a smile, which feels more like a grimace. The woman doesn’t notice.

“Hey…Jessica…” You grind out, trying your very hardest not to sound pained. You’re pretty sure you’re failing, but the peppy PTA mom is oblivious.

“So, how’ve you been? Howard and I have been doing great, thank you.”

“I’ve been doing pretty well myself.” You say warily, trying to edge your way out the door. Maybe if you get past her you can use the late for work excuse and make a run for it.

“I’ll say, what with all those kids you seem to have picked up.” Your blood instantly runs cold. Jessica grins like she’s just caught the juiciest bit of gossip in the whole neighborhood. And at the rate your morning is going, she may very well have.

“What kids?” You say, very carefully schooling your face into a neutral expression and keeping your voice flat.

“Oh come on, honey, those little adorable dumplings you were running around with in the snow yesterday. Surely you didn’t expect me not to notice.” You’re dying a little inside. You’d hoped she wouldn’t. The disguises were meant as a last resort, not as a way to meet the neighbors. She smiles indulgently at your pause, and you swear she can almost smell your fear.

“Well, aren’t you going to introduce us?” You think up an explanation as fast as you can.

“They’re not my kids.” You say lamely, wondering why it hurts to claim that. They’re not, not really. “Some of the daycare’s more…prestigious patrons had a big out-of-state business meeting this weekend, so I volunteered to take them.” You grasp around for something to throw her off your trail. “I heard Melissa’s husband had something to do with it.” You toss out, locking the door behind you and edging off the porch. “I’ve got to run, I’m going to be late for work.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” Jessica concedes. “Well, if you need any help, just let me know! My boy is an angel, I’ve never had to worry about discipline, but if your kids get unruly, just give me a call! Us ladies have to stick together!” She finishes with a laugh. You fight down the nausea that springs to your throat at the flippant remark on your gender and give her a pained grimace.

“Y-yeah, right…”

Without bothering to wave, you’re off and practically sprinting to the bus stop. Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears as you flash your pass at the driver and take your seat. Alphy’s little plan, you think grimly to yourself, may just have to happen sooner than you had hoped.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> special chapter today, written by mod mettaton on kindertale@tumblr!!  
> hope you enjoy, send some love to the writers!

Packing for a week long trip to with eight children proves a more stressful experience than you ever could have imagined, but at the same time, it’s extremely straightforward. You have a mental list of everything that you could possibly need in every possible worst case scenario, as you’ve been going over all of them in your mind for days. Leaving lends a strange lightness to your movements, and an odd clarity to your head. Last night, you pulled out some human maps, the book on monster history, and settled down with Alphys and Sans cuddled against you on the couch to try and pinpoint the location of the barrier. They were both eager to help, Alphys giving vague info on the distance between her home (which you’d calculated was somewhere outside the limits of your hometown, between you and the capital) and Sans helping with the calculations, and figuring out just how your human map lined up with the one in the history book.

As it turns out, the monster capital lines up nearly perfectly with the human capital. It’s unsurprising, when you think about it - it makes sense. The humans would have wanted to settle somewhere where they could keep an eye on the monsters, wouldn’t they? And the capital must be called Warden for a reason. Now that it’s right in your face, you’re shocked nobody has connected the dots before. It seems so obvious to you. You shudder, imagining the way humanity would react if it knew monsterkind was so easily with in its reach. Even though monsters had mostly become a myth, kids in your daycare still played monsters and humans regularly. It’s already a rather brutal game, with the “monsters” being relentlessly chased by the “humans.” It a monster was tagged, that meant they were dead, and out for the rest of the game. Even before all this, you’d tried to stop your students from playing it, but now it makes you cringe even more.

You clear your head, going over your mental checklist as you look through your bags. You must have checked them a hundred times already, but you don’t want to forget anything. You don’t know when or even if you’ll be back, and you want the children to be as comfortable as possible. You’ve got three bags - one of your own clothes, and basic necessities - you aren’t sure if ghosts need toothbrushes, but you pack two extras anyways - one filled with snacks, toys, and coloring books to keep the little ones busy, and the last one stuffed with last minute christmas gifts, carefully hidden under the clothes you bought for the monsters. At least those they aren’t wearing. You’re extremely grateful they showed up in the winter, when it’s socially acceptable to bundle your children into so many layers they just look like fat, waddling humanoid blobs. You don’t even want to think about how you’d disguise them in a warmer season. You check your printed out train tickets for the hundredth time too, unable to keep from considering the possibility that you’ve somehow missed the train, or bought too few tickets.

But you didn’t. Everything is alright.

You’ve got the right amount of tickets, and they’re for the one o’clock train to Middleborough today, just like you thought they were.

It’s a slow train, and you’ll have to hurry to catch the one to Warden, scheduled twenty minutes after your arrival, but your jobs don’t pay much, and even without Papyrus, who rode free, and the ghosts -“They won’t see us if we don’t want them to,” Mettaton had assured you when you were buying the tickets - buying twelve tickets, along with food and gifts for your little crew, takes a toll on your wallet. You couldn’t afford a fast train, unless you wanted to go without food, or Christmas gifts, both of which are out of the question. Out of the monsters’ sight, you heave a sigh of mixed relief and worry, thinking of what’s to come. You hope you can get them home safe, and yet - you don’t, as well. A selfish part of you hopes your calculations are all wrong - they’re made by children, there’s a good chance of that, right? - and you’ll just have to get back on the train and take everyone back with you. You can just keep hiding them, it’ll be fine.

It’ll be quiet here without them, you think. You’re not sure you’ll miss worrying if you’ll come home and still have a kitchen, but the peaceful sounds of play you can hear even now, floating from the living room, are a kind of ambiance you just can’t get by simply leaving the TV on. You’d forgotten how nice it was to be loved.

Your eyes are stinging, so you pull out your phone and check the time, distracting yourself with preparations instead of thinking of what’s to come. It’s nearly noon. You know you can get to the station in fifteen minutes on foot, but, considering you’ve got longer legs than any of the monsters, you decide to give yourself thirty. With another half hour taken up by getting out the door, and navigating the train station, you should be leaving any minute. You blink a few times, until you’re confident your tear ducts are under control, scoop up your bags, and set your shoulders before going out to the living room.

Getting the kids out the door is about as easy as herding cats, if those cats were smart enough to talk back to you, and suddenly remembered they’d forgotten something, and insist on going back, every time you managed to make any progress.

Somehow, though, you manage to pry an unusually docile Papyrus out of Sans’ clutches, convince Asgore to pull the little wheeled suitcase you packed with the monsters’ things, and get out the door. You’ve bundled everyone into a jackets, hats, snow pants, boots, mittens, and a few more layers just to be sure, done at least eight headcounts, and checked the street thoroughly for any nosy neighbors, and you’re pretty sure everything is (miraculously) going to work out smoothly. You get about half a block from home before you feel hard tug on your sleeve.

“Um, Frisk? I have to pee,” Undyne says, her husky voice a little more timid than usual.

You try not to roll your eyes. Of course she does. You ask her if she can wait even though you know the answer. You go back, make everyone use the bathroom, do a couple more headcounts just to be sure, and head out the second time. Papyrus chews happily on your shoulder the whole time, unaware of the chaos. You hope he’ll tire himself out enough to sleep on the train.

This time, you manage to get all the way to the train station. After a brief meeting outside, in which you tell the children to keep their heads down and their scarves up, stick together, and behave quietly in the station, you hurry them through the gates, bundling Papyrus closer to your chest and hiding his skull against your jacket. A man with a authoritarian mustache counts your tickets, and then your children, and you hope to whatever benevolent supernatural beings might be out there that Mettaton wasn’t lying when he said ghosts couldn’t be seen unless they wanted to be, because they look very visible to you.

Fortunately, the man makes no comment besides, “Alright ma’am, have a good trip, keep those kids in line,” which makes you cringe a little, but you’re more relieved he didn’t ask for IDs than anything else. You don’t know how you would have gotten around that. Still, you don’t completely let out your breath until you’re on the train. You take up one booth, though technically you’ve got the seats to two, because you’re too paranoid to let anyone out of your sight. You’re so used to their little inhuman faces, you have to constantly remind yourself that most of the people around you would want them dead on sight.

You settle in, distributing entertainment in the form of crayons, paper, small toys, and, in Sans’ case, a small, fuzzy blanket. He wraps it around himself, curls up, and rests his head on your thigh, his little, bony body surprisingly warm. You rub his shoulder affectionately through the layers of sweaters and the blanket, and finally allow yourself to believe that you might be in the clear, at least for a few hours.

–

By the time the crackly voice on the train intercom finally announces Middleborough and you herd your little monster preschool out, everyone is a little stir-crazy. Once outside, you arrange your bags on your shoulders and hand Papyrus over to a still-yawning Sans, grateful for the slight decrease in weight. He clutches his baby brother to his chest and whispers something to him that you don’t quite catch, probably just a bit of brotherly affection.

You try to keep everyone in your line of sight, but it’s difficult. It’s a new place, and, above all else, they are children. Unlike you, they’re mostly unaware of the flaws in their disguises, and you’ve been trying to keep a calm exterior to avoid any mass panic, so they’re braver than you’re quite comfortable with. The Middleborough station is bustling, and full of intriguing merchandise stalls, advertisements, and people. You manage to keep them moving in the same general direction, but it’s an abstract line, and it’s hard to keep track of seven distracted children. You feel a scaly hand grab yours and look down to see Alphys smiling up at you, her eyes shining.

“Look, Frisk, anime!” Alphys says, pointing with her free hand at a stall across the station. “Can I go look, pretty please?”

You tell her you’re sorry, but you have a train to catch - you have to keep moving - but she’s already let go of your hand and taken off in the direction of the stall. A wave of people surges past and you feel panic rising in your chest -it’s rush hour. You find a bench, instruct the others to stay there, no matter what, and squeeze through the bustle of commuters, calling Alphys’ name as loud as you can. A few businesspeople give you odd looks, but no one stops to help. You get to the kiosk Alphys had pointed out, and almost ask the clerk if he’s seen her - but what would you say?

Hey, have you seen a little girl, about this high, kind of yellowish complexion, and you might have noticed she’s got a tail like a lizard. No biggie, I swear she’s a human. Ha. As if that was a good idea.

You circle the stand several times, feeling more and more frantic, before you feel a tap on your shoulder. You whip around, jumpy from your missing kid, and find yourself face-to-chest with a tall young man in a tatty orange. He doesn’t look much older than nineteen or twenty, with a clean, clear face and a mop of ginger curls trying to escape from under a doodled-on bandana. When he opens his mouth to speak, you notice he’s missing a tooth.

“Heya, you lookin’ for someone?” The boy says, putting his hands on his hips. You wonder how he’s not freezing in his thin t-shirt.

“Yeah, a little girl, actually,” You say, without thinking.

“Oh yeah? I bet that’s real scary. But you have to be brave and stay determined, okay? You’ll find her, I just know it.” He points down toward the exit of the station. “Why don’t you check down that way?”

You follow his pointing finger, and turn to thank him, but he’s gone. You notice his bandana on the floor, and pick it up, before hurrying in the direction he pointed. It smells faintly of cinnamon, and you’re flooded with a warm memory of apple cider enjoyed with your friends at the orphanage.

You find Alphys huddled in a corner, her face buried in her knees, and rush over to her, dropping down into a squat to get on eye level with her. You ask her why she ran off, and you tell her you were very worried, but you try to keep your voice from going hard.

“I s-s-saw the anime and-and I got e-ex-cited,” Alphys hiccups, stuttering even more than usual. “T-then I realised w-what I had do-done and I - I figured y-you wouldn’t want me to come b-b-back.”

She chokes on a sob and you scoop her into your arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. You reassure her that you do want her to stay, but to please not run away like that again. She scared you. You wait for her to calm down a little before going back to the others, only letting go of her hand when Undyne tackle-hugs her, squishing their cheeks together. You’re relieved that nothing happened to everyone waiting, but when you look at your phone, your heart sinks. Your train left ten minutes ago.

You know there won’t be another train today for a few hours, and you don’t want to travel that late, especially without a reliable place to stay upon arrival, so there’s really only one thing you can do. You explain to your little crew that this time they’ll all be holding your hands, and arrange them on either side of you, with Sans and Toriel on your left and Asgore, Alphys and Undyne on your right. You have the ghosts float up ahead, where you can see them, since they can’t exactly hold hands, being incorporeal. It’s a little disconcerting seeing them phase through people, but you think you’ll get used to it. You’re glad you thought to keep everyone together this way, even if it means you take up more space. You don’t want to lose anyone again.

Outside, you pull out your phone, type in a number you know by heart even though you haven’t even thought about it in years, and hope beyond all hope that it still works.


	8. Chapter 8

Your memory serves you, and the number you called miraculously still works. The voice that answers is shaky but familiar, and you hustle the kids into a public bus as soon as you get off the phone, glad your paranoid past self thought to grab a handful of coins for emergency bus fare. You give the driver an apologetic look as you funnel the change into the slot, before following the kids to the back of the bus. You’re glad that it’s nearly empty. Then again, not many people want to get where you’re going.

The ride is quicker than you remember - it always felt like hours getting home from school when you were little, but it’s barely over twenty minutes. You shepherd your little group to the familiar door, reading the sign above it - Middleborough Orphanage, in dilapidated gold paint - with a slight catch in your throat.

The woman who answers is much older than you thought she’d be. Her hands, which you remember as firm and motherly, are now soft, worn and grandmotherly as they clutch yours. One of her eyes has gone milky white, and, as selfish as it feels to admit, you’re a little bit relieved that she won’t be able to see well. The little monsters watch, silent except for the soft sound of their breath, while you exchange your greetings.

You instinctively call her Headmistress, and she smiles at you - a little sadly, you think.

“Please, call me Esther,” Esther says, still clasping your hands. Her voice is just as commanding and distinctive as you remembered it. “I haven’t been a head mistress for many years - it doesn’t suit me anymore.”

You don’t agree. Even with her white hair and trembling hands, Esther still holds a level of poise that commands respect. But you don’t tell her that.

“And these must be the children you mentioned,” Esther continues, letting go of your hands and turning to look at them.

You hope she won’t see through their, admittedly shoddily-made, disguises. The kids bunch together, glancing between you and Esther, suddenly shy. You remember they haven’t met any other humans, only know your race from horror stories, and understand a little more why they look so nervous.

“Well, let’s go inside, then,” Esther says finally, after an agonizing moment. “You make yourselves comfortable - Frisk, dear, I’m sure you still know your way around - I’ll put a pot of tea on. Why don’t you show them the parlor?”

The parlor is more of a playroom than anything else, but it’s never been called such. It’s exactly like it always has been - same faded pictures on the walls, same old, meticulously dusted toys - you wonder if Esther has been keeping everything clean all by herself all these years - same tired-looking armchairs drooping on either side of the fireplace.

The kids hover for a moment around you, before ambling in, their curiosity about the new space stronger than their fear. The room is a comfortable shade of brown, as if it’s a sepia toned photo, now punctuated by splashes of color where the children have shed their heavy coats. It’s impossible to find anything that isn’t brightly colored in the children’s section. You settle into one of the sofas as the kids wander off, a puff of a familiar, homey smell rising up to meet you when you do. You sit up straight, the way you would in a stranger’s house, despite the intense feeling of being home that’s settled over you.

“I’m so sorry there’s not a tree - I wasn’t expecting any company this Christmas,” Esther says as she comes in with the tea tray, startling you out of your nostalgia. You accept your cup gratefully, blowing steam off before taking a sip. It’s as light and green-tasting as you remember it being, and holds the same strange aftertaste you can only describe as being bittersweet.

“Thank you for taking us in, Esther.” You say, giving the older woman a smile. “And the tree isn’t a problem, we weren’t expecting Christmas either.”

“Oh, it’s no problem dearie. Anything for an old charge of mine.” She grins fondly. You nod, and there’s a pause where you both remember when she was the closest thing to a mother you had. “You and your little friends are practically my grandchildren, even if you’re never in touch.” Cue stern grandmotherly look.  
You cringe a little, feeling properly chastised, but say nothing. Apparently satisfied, she returns to her tea.

“I haven’t heard from the others in quite some time, though I suppose with the state my eyes are in, I wouldn’t be able to read a darn thing they said even if they had written.” Esther jokes, her tone as bittersweet as your tea. You nod sympathetically. Toriel sheds another layer of sweaters and you make a mental note to keep her and Asgore as far from Esther as possible. They’d probably love her, and as much as it pains you to keep her from them, there’s no way even Esther’s old eyes could mistake their fur for anything but what it was. Come to think of it, you probably shouldn’t let Undyne get too close either - there aren’t many greenish-blue human children out there.

You talk to Esther about everything from your childhood to your jobs and everything in between, explaining away your absence at work by saying you got vacation leave and wanted to spend it with the kids, the words tumbling from your mouth uncontrolled. Esther teases you about turning her into a real grandmother, and you splutter and insist that they aren’t yours. You find yourself having to tell people that more and more, but the more you deny the more it seems to become true. The kids wandered off sometime during your conversation, presumably to explore the house, and you look at the empty playroom, now with a few toys pulled out and left among the discarded coats and sweaters, your expression a little sad.

Speaking of which, the clock above the fireplace says it’s almost 4pm, and you haven’t heard from the kids in nearly half an hour. They’re all probably tuckered out, but you decide to go find them, just in case.

“Hey Esther? I’m gonna go check on the kids.” The old woman nods, waving you out of the room.

“Take your time, dearie. I know little children can be unpredictable.” You start towards the door, but stop, remembering the mess the kids made. You sigh in exasperation, but you can feel yourself smiling. They’re still just as messy as when they were at your house. Gathering up all of the discarded jackets, you hurry upstairs and unceremoniously dump them on one of the beds in the room you shared with the others when you stayed here. There are three rooms besides Esther’s own, each with eight beds, still crisply made with their white sheets pulled over their worn, dirt-hiding brown duvets. You slept in the one farthest down the hall, and turning into it to drop your things was almost instinctual, even though you hadn’t been in the house in years. The tiny room is exactly as you remember it, but at the same time, much smaller. You push down the wave of nostalgia, searching through the pile of luggage for a very specific bag. You finally spot it under Asgore’s coat, snatching it up triumphantly. Satisfied, you head out to look for the kids. The other rooms unpstairs, the kitchen, and the dining room all turn up empty. You tiptoe through the parlour, (Esther’s fallen asleep), and quietly slip out the back door. A familiar puff of red hair catches your attention through the green house window. You smile, taking the stone path up to the little building. The door creaks when you open it, and Alphys jumps with a squeak, spinning to face you.

“ O-oh hey Frisk!” Her little face brightens. “S-sorry we’re not wearing our disguises, they’re just reaally itchy and-um. Yeah.” She looks at the floor, embarrassed.

“It’s okay Alphys, I’m not mad. I was just wondering where you were all at. Esther fell asleep.” You add when she peers over your shoulder.

“Oh, okay. The others are back through here.” Alphys hesitates, her tiny clawed hand curling in a little. You realize what she’s instinctively wanting to do, and you reach down and take her hand.

“Well?” You say calmly as she gives you a startled look. “Do you want to show me?” Alphys grins and nods, jerking forward pulling you along the small garden path. As attentive as Esther’s cleaning was in the house, it’s obvious the greenhouse has been severely neglected. Tattered brown vines cling weakly to the grimy glass walls, and every step you take is punctuated with the crunch of dry leaves. Alphys’ tail whispers through the debris, and you reflect sadly on the vibrant garden that used to bloom here. You round the bend and immediately notice the monster pile in the center of the garden.

“Hey, guys. Are we interrupting anything?” Undyne and Toriel scramble to their feet, jogging over to meet you.

“There you are Alphys!!” Undyne calls, scooping up her smaller friend. Alphys yelps and you laugh, snorting as Alphys starts to stutter. Toriel smiles patiently at the antics of her friends, giggling a little when Undyne brushes off Alphys’ protests and insists the quiet girl join them in their gardening.

“Gardening, huh?” You ask her quizzically. She shrugs.

“Asgore likes it, and I think it’s pretty calming. This place looks like it could use some cleaning up.” She explains, starting to walk back to the group the others have formed. You tag along, listening to Asgore’s little speech.

“And then, once you’ve watered the new sprout, you wait at least three minutes for the sprout to become adjusted to it’s surrounding and start hardening.” Asgore explains to an intent audience. “That way, it’s not so soft that it collapses under it’s own weight when you advance the growth with magic.” Sans nods, soaking up the information like a sponge. Papyrus is just happy to watch the little green vine wiggle it’s way out of the earth,and Mettaton and Blooky are floating near the roof having a conversation of their own. You yourself are enraptured as Asgore’s hands start glowing with a warm yellow light, coaxing the plant out of the ground. Leaves unfold as the plant unravels, tiny buds forming and bursting into bloom as vibrant yellow petals turn towards the sun. A fully-grown sunflower sways in front of you, just tall enough that you have to tilt your head back to see the top. You’re filled with awe, and when you glance down, you can practically see the stars in the other kids’ eyes. A wistful part of you wishes that everyone could see this tender moment of beauty and fragility. Maybe then, people would understand that they weren’t the menaces that society made them out to be. Papyrus tentatively reaches out and pokes the new plant, making it wobble a little.

“Wow…that was amazing, Asgore!” Alphys bursts out, and the other children immediately start adding in, the ghosts floating down from the rafters to cheer. Asgore starts blushing, glancing about him furtively. You decide to rescue the little goatling and intercede.

“That was pretty awesome, but I think you’re flustering Asgore, guys.” You remark, and the other kids back off, still unabashedly impressed. Asgore, thankful for the disraction, finds something else to draw their attention.

“Hey Frisk, what’s in that bag?” You’re suddenly reminded of the reason you were searching out the kids.

“Oh yeah! I’ve got something for you all.” The kids scramble over, peering at the bag with a chorus of “Let me see!” And “What is it?” You carefully pull out each item, handing it to each monster as you explain. “Here on the surface, we have a holiday-several holidays, actually- where we celebrate being together and give each other presents. So, I figured, since it’s your first holiday on the surface and we already missed Hanukkah, we could celebrate Christmas.” A pair of oven mitts for Toriel, a book on gardening for Asgore, a nerf staff for Undyne, a science kit for Alphys, a little grey hat for Napstablook, a fluffy pink boa for Mettaton, a joke book for Sans, and a tiny bone rattle for Papyrus. All in all, you think you picked out some pretty good presents. Metta and Blooky waste no time in creating ectoplasmic versions of their gifts, and your ears are filled with the laughter of the other kids and Papyrus’s rattle.

“But wait, Frisk, we didn’t get anything for you!” Toriel seems genuinely distressed. You sit down next to her, pulling her into a hug.

“Being here, safe with you guys, is more than enough of a present for me.” And you can feel deep down inside yourself, that warm, blooming sense of happiness that comes with being home. For the first time in over twenty years, you’re celebrating Christmas with family again.


	9. Chapter 9

Time slips through your fingers like fine dust, soft and barely noticeable against your skin, and before you know a whole week has passed. The children are happy, Esther is happy, you’re happy, and a part of you wants to just stay here forever. Maybe the kids don’t have anyone waiting for them. They haven’t mentioned anyone. In fact, they’ve hardly talked about their past lives at all. You’re reluctant to admit it, but you really don’t want to bring them home.

You sleep in the same room they do, and, as the nights wear on, you come to expect someone to join you midway through the night. More often than not, you wake up in the morning with a small, furred or scaled head tucked under your chin, or tiny, bony arms wrapped tightly around your middle. Usually they don’t wake you up, just wriggle in next to you and go back to sleep, but tonight is apparently not the usual.

You are pulled from a dream about being a giraffe in a zoo, gently patted awake by two soft paws on your cheeks, and you push yourself up on your elbows, squinting in the thin moonlight at whoever woke you.

It’s Toriel. Her small, furry face is close to yours, and bearing a worried, apologetic expression.

“I had a bad dream,” she whispers, her paws slowly leaving your cheeks and hovering awkwardly by her sides, fiddling with the soft purple flannel of her nightgown.

You hmm your response, wordlessly lifting your blankets, shivering a bit as your little pocket of warmth dissipates, but Toriel shakes her head.

“N-no, it’s okay, I can sleep by myself. I just wanted to talk to you.” Her voice trembles a little. You don’t want to get up, but your parental instincts kick in, and you find yourself sitting up and pushing away your warm blankets, almost without meaning to.

“Okay, let’s go downstairs,” You concede in a low voice. You reach out and take her paw, before leading her toward the door. “We don’t want to wake the others.”

She nods, kneading the flesh of your hand between both of her own as you tiptoe down the stairs. You’re glad you thought to buy everyone warm pajamas before you left home - Esther’s house is big, and solid stone, and you can’t believe you’d forgotten how cold it got at night. You wish you’d thought of packing slippers.

“Do you want something warm to drink?” You ask when you get to the kitchen, watching Toriel perch on a kitchen chair with her knees tucked up under her little purple nightgown. 

She nods again, almost imperceptibly, and you turn to fill the teapot, setting it on the huge old fashioned stove to heat up and lighting a match to help the gas start. You mix honey and a little cinnamon in the bottom of two cups, and come to sit down across from her, crossing your arms over your chest to ward off the cold. “So. Do you want to tell me about your bad dream?”

“Yes,” Toriel says after a moment. “I did wake you up for it, I guess I owe you an explanation.”

You’re about to tell her that it’s okay, she doesn’t need to tell you anything if she doesn’t want to, but the kettle shrills loudly, and you hold up a finger for her to pause. You fill the cups halfway, then add cold milk, ensuring the soothing drinks will be cool enough not to burn your mouths. You set the cups down and Toriel wraps her paws around hers, her breath blowing steam off the creamy surface. You pull a chair around so you can face her without sitting across the big table, and sit down, squeezing your own mug tightly between your palms.

“I’m just… worried, I guess,” Toriel admits after a moment, not meeting your eyes. “I had a dream something bad happened when we got to the barrier. I - I don’t want to get into it, it was too scary. But I don’t want it to come true!”

“Toriel,” you say gently, even though you’re worried about it too. “I promise, everything will be fine. Anyone can go into the Underground, right? It’s just getting out that’s hard.” Toriel just stares at you and sips her honey milk. “Nothing will happen, alright?”

“I just…” Toriel stops, and you can see her eyes fill. Her voice is tight and quiet when she speaks again. “I just really don’t want to have to leave you, Frisk. You’ve been so good to us.”  
In a heartbeat, you reach over and scoop Toriel up, cuddling her to your chest and kissing her between her stubby little horns, breathing in the odd combination of goat and your own shampoo. Toriel clings to you, her tears soaking into your collar. You sit in silence, unable to find anything to say that doesn’t just sound stupid and patronizing, rubbing one hand up and down her back soothingly. You don’t know how much time passes, but eventually, her shoulders stop shaking and her tears reduce to a light, occasional sniffle.

“You don’t have to leave just yet, sweet,” you hear yourself saying, as you stroke one of her ears. It’s impossibly soft. “We can stay here a while, no one is making you leave.”

“Okay.” Toriel’s voice is barely above a whisper. She lifts her head and looks at you through damp eyelashes, her expression still serious. “Thank you, Frisk. For everything. I think I can sleep now.”

It breaks your heart that an eight year old kid would feel the need to thank you for basic care, would even be self-aware enough to see that care couldn’t be taken for granted, but you just nod a little and kiss her forehead one more time before letting her slide off your lap.

You listen to the sound of her little claws clicking away on the hardwood floor for a moment before standing up, swallowing what’s left in your mug and picking up Toriel’s. You don’t want to make Esther wash them in the morning, so you do it yourself, leaning from one foot to the other as you wait for the hot water to come. You think about what Toriel said, and what you said, and how relieved she seemed when you said you didn’t have to go to the barrier right away.

A knock on the back door startles you out of your thoughts. You can’t imagine who might be out there, especially at this hour and in Esther’s private garden, but you tiptoe to look, just in case it’s someone you know.

It isn’t.

There’s a young woman standing at the door, dressed in what looks like a pale blue leotard and a rather damp looking tutu. Her eyes are so blue they seem to glow. Maybe they do glow, you aren’t sure.

“Come on, Frisk, don’t give up now,” she urges, her voice soft and melodic, slightly muffled through the glass door. You’re reminded of your encounters at the library and the train station, and you wonder if she’s one of those, whatever those are. “Are you really being true to yourself by keeping them here? Is this really the right thing to do?”

You shake your head a little, either out of disbelief or in response to her question, even you aren’t sure.

“Stay true to your mission, Frisk,” the woman says, casting her eyes down to smooth her tulle skirts. “Let your determination guide you!”

You blink, and she’s gone, but you almost expected that. You look down to see a tiny pair of ballet slippers, their ribbons tied loosely together, sitting in the snow. After a moment’s hesitation you open the door a crack and pick them up. You turn them over in your hands, and find their soles are worn and muddy, though the faded pink silk on top is in near   
perfect condition.

Frowning a little, you lock the back door again and turn away, hurrying upstairs and tucking the shoes under your bed before climbing in. Toriel is already there, her face buried in your pillow. You can’t tell if she’s awake or asleep, but you climb in and wrap yourself around her protectively, figuring that either way, she must be in your bed instead of her own for a reason.

You dream of the barrier, and battle, and, oddly, dancing.


	10. Chapter 10

Despite the encouragement of the… spirit? Friendly hallucination? Talented neighborhood magician? - you still find yourself clinging to the old house, reluctant to let go. You’re not procrastinating leaving, not exactly, you’re just…not taking initiative.

You’re totally procrastinating it.

There’s a stab of guilt each time you hesitate packing, each time you leave your empty suitcases on the bed, letting yourself be dragged off to play with Sans and Papyrus, or show Toriel how to use the oven (you’ve set up a no fire magic inside rule, for obvious reasons), or look at the flowers Asgore has grown, instead of packing like you should be. You open up your laptop and stare at the Middleborough train station website every evening, strategically placing yourself near the children, in hopes that they will find a reason drag you away before you can buy the tickets.

Besides, the children are happy here. It’s becoming more and more apparent the longer you stay, and that alone is a good excuse, you think. They all seem to have found things they consistently enjoy doing, and the tall, wooden fence around the property allows them to play safely outside, which you couldn’t let them do much at home.

You caught Asgore sneaking out before sunrise to make sure his flowers were okay a while back, and, though you did lecture him about it, you’ve been pretending not to wake up when you hear him get up and clump down the stairs in his snowboots. You watched him from the window the second time you heard him go, and the way he tenderly cupped each blossom between his too big, almost puppyish, paws, was so sweet, you didn’t have the heart to lecture him again.You doubt he would listen, anyway. Besides, the first time a flower died from the cold, Asgore sank to his knees and sniffled over it for almost twenty minutes, and you aren’t exactly keen on having that happen again.

Esther has been teaching Toriel how to bake, and by some miracle hasn’t noticed - or at least hasn’t commented on - the suspicious size and fluffiness of her student’s ears, or how very paw-like her hands are. Sans has relaxed enough to let Papyrus out of his sight sometimes, and often joins Toriel and Esther in the kitchen, when he isn’t curled up in improbable places, asleep. You still tend to follow Papyrus around, simply because he’s the smallest and most likely to chew on furniture and pull it down on top of himself, but you’re glad Sans has lightened up.

You’re doing that now - quietly tagging along as Undyne drags Papyrus around. She is, as usual, playing some sort of knight and princess game with Alphys, and has enstated Papyrus as the not-so-fearsome dragon guarding the lovely Princess Alphys. You doubt that Undyne would intentionally hurt him, but he is considerably smaller than her, and she is considerably caught up in her imagined role, so you keep on your toes. Eventually, the dragon tires of the princess and crawls away, and Undyne declares herself the victor. You leave them alone in the playroom, trailing Papyrus, his taped on, cardboard dragon tail still dragging lopsidedly behind him, down the hall.

He seems to know where he’s going, and though you certainly don’t, you decide not to intervene, at least until it seems like he could hurt himself. As you near then end of the hallway, you start to hear faint strains of singing, and you figure that must be what he was following. You’re amazed he heard it from all the way in the playroom. He turns into the little library, with its faded wallpaper and short, child-accessible bookshelves, and stops abruptly in the doorway. So this is where the singing came from. You peek around the doorframe, and see the two ghosts, Blooky hovering above the window seat, and Mettaton a few feet away, a little bit higher in the air, singing. The light filters through the two the way it would through water, leaving translucent, colored shadows on the floor.

Mettaton’s song is about going on a walk through the woods in autumn, and meeting someone there. It’s sweet and a little old fashioned, and his soft, babyish voice is confident even when he stumbles over some of the words. Papyrus babbles happily, putting one of his fists in his mouth, and the singing stops abruptly.

“Oh, it’s only you,” Mettaton says. He swoops down to come eye-level with Papyrus. “Did you like my song?”

Papyrus babbles some more and waves his spitty fist through Mettaton’s face, making him jump away slightly. Blooky giggles from his spot by the window.

“I’ll sing it again, I don’t mind,” Mettaton says, floating back down. “Blooky, won’t you sing with me this time? You know the song sounds better with two parts. Pap won’t tell, will you Pap?”

You creep away. You know Papyrus loves any sort of singing, and that he’ll stay still for a longer amount of time while listening to a song than anything else. You want to see how Asgore is doing in the greenhouse, and Papyrus would probably start crying if you tried to take him away. Besides, you don’t want to scare Blooky into flying through the ceiling again. You head out, grabbing your coat and hat as you go. The air outside is crisp and cold, but the sun is shining in that pale, cold winter way, and it makes Asgore’s fur seem to glow.  
Before you can get to him, though, you hear a voice calling your name.

The voice floats down from a tree a few yards to your right, and you look over, surprised. You were pretty sure you knew where everyone was. You march over, ready to scold whoever it was for not letting you know they were going out, but find that it isn’t one of the kids at all. Someone - an adult someone, a little bit older than you, it seems - is sitting perched in the tree, their back against the trunk and one leg dangling jauntily off the branch they are sitting on.

“Frisk, you -”

“Okay, who the heck are you people?” You interrupt them, getting right under the tree and glaring at them with your hands on your hips. “Listen, I am not a very angry person but you people keep just showing up out of nowhere and giving me advice, who are you?”

“Who are we - um, hmm, well, that’s sort of difficult, see, I only have a few minutes, and I have a -” the someone fumbles awkwardly. They push their thick, round glasses up their nose a bit and close the notebook in their lap. “Well, maybe I’d better come down.”

“Mhm,” you say, in your best teacher voice, crossing your arms over your chest. You don’t like being startled by these people all the time. You jump back a little, your stern demeanor ruined, as the book comes tumbling to the ground, followed by the person, landing with a heavy thump on their feet beside you.

“Alright, maybe - maybe it’s best if we walk a little. Good for the lungs, and all that,” they say. You’re pleased to notice they look uncomfortable under your teacherly stare.

“Okay, let’s go, then. How long do you have?”

“About five minutes, totally, so probably about three minutes, now.”

“Well, you’d better talk quickly,” you say curtly, heading off to circle the garden. They hurry after you, and you notice they’re shorter than you - they have to trot a little to keep up with your quick pace. You decide to have pity on them and slow down a little.

“Well, okay, see, I can’t tell you that much, but I can say that we’re all dead - sort of - I mean, our souls are still here, that’s what we are now - manifestations of pure soul energy - very difficult to hold onto for long, and we’re here to help you, really!”

“I - um, okay. Soul energy. Dead people are coming and talking to me and leaving shoes and bandanas and things for me. Alright.” This whole situation makes you jumpy.

“It’s because of the kids - that we’re here, I mean. We - um, oh, jeez, I don’t have time to go into it all, but the point is, we keep showing up to make sure you get through this whole quest thing with the monster children. There’s a certain outcome that has to happen and we are here to make sure that outcome happens.” Their voice is a little desperate, like they think you won’t listen. Which is probably fair, given your track record.

“Outcome. Okay. I take it you don’t have time to explain what that outcome is, either.

“No, I don’t. But it won’t happen if you just stay here! You have to keep moving! I know Blue came but you didn’t listen to her, so that’s why I’m here now. If any more of us have to come early like this it’ll majorly mess stuff up.”

“Blue?”

“Ballet slippers?” They prompt, hopefully.

“Ah yes. Okay, I think I get it,” You say, even though you probably don’t. You glance down at their clothes. “So that makes you… Purple, I’m guessing?”

“Lilac, actually,” they correct you, smoothing their oversized indigo sweater. “But you were close.”

“Alright, then, Lilac, I think I get it. I’ll round up the kids as soon as I can, I promise,” You assure them. You really aren’t sure what to do with all this information, but you figure they’re probably telling the truth.

“Thank goodness. I’m gonna disappear any second. You have to go, okay? You can come back here after it’s all over, if you listen to the others! Please just go! Tomorrow if you can, they’re waiting for you!” Sure enough, right after they finish speaking, Lilac disappears, their purple-rimmed glasses falling to the ground with a clatter. One of the lenses cracks when it falls, and when you try them on, you can’t see much. Lilac must not clean their glasses much. You shove them into your pocket. You still want to go check on Asgore.

You’ll tell everyone at dinner, you think. Of course, you’ll tell Esther first, in private, and you’ll order the tickets as soon as you get back inside, and you’ll get the earliest train you can. It makes your heart ache, but - well, Lilac said you’d come back here if you did it right. That’s a lot of pressure. You hope you’ll be able to succeed. No, you will be able to succeed.

You are filled with Determination.


	11. Chapter 11

You stay up late packing that night. Esther had nodded and patted your hand understandingly when you told her, wrapping you in a hug that made you feel far worse about leaving than you did before, and Alphys and Napstablook both started crying when you told them the news at dinner. You feel bad, of course, but you know it has to happen. You’re coming back, right? Your stomach drops when you realize that Lilac said nothing about the kids coming back with you, but you push that thought out of your mind. You have to keep going.

The kids are reluctant to leave the next morning. You don’t blame them, but you can’t afford to linger anymore either. You know you’ve used up probably more time than you could afford to already. It’s time to move on. The train tickets are purchased, and you spent most of the night gathering up and double checking everybody’s things. The kids are groggy, and so are you, but you try not to show it. You got up when you heard Asgore clump down the stairs in his too-big boots to revive his flowers, distracting yourself from the thought that it was probably the last time he’d get to do that by clattering around in the kitchen making yourself coffee.

Of course, that was hours ago. Your train is in two hours - plenty of time to catch the bus and get to the station - and you’re in the process of bundling everyone out the door. Several of them are sniffling forlornly, and if you’re honest, you’re close to tears too. The children cluster around esther in an affectionate pile, hugging her legs through her long, dark wool skirt. She squeezes your hand between both of hers, reassuringly.

“You’re doing the right thing, dear,” Esther says. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. She reaches into her skirt pocket. “Here, I have something for you.”

She hands you a little brown jar, with a handwritten label on the side. “Fin salve?” you ask, turning it in your hands to read the label. “What -”

“For Undyne, dear. She’s bound to get dry skin, being away from water for so long,” Esther explains. You open your mouth, then shut it again, a few times, and she laughs gently. 

“What, did you think I wouldn’t notice your little ones aren’t human? Frisk, I may be nearly blind, but I’m not stupid.”

“Sorry, Head - Esther,” you mumble, her firm tone taking you back to being a child for a moment. “I didn’t mean to imply that.”

“I’ve met my share of monsters, Frisk, I know they aren’t all as bad as the fairytales.” She smiles, her tone taking on a teasing lilt. “Besides, any children of my kids are grandchildren of mine.” You smile, hugging the old headmistress. She is thinner and frailer than you remember, but still warm and deceptively strong.

“Thank you.” You whisper, burying your face in her shoulder as the tears start to prick at your eyes. Your throat is closing up and you force yourself to breathe, inhaling the scent of tea that always hangs around her. When you step back, her eyes look watery too.

“Go on, then.” She says, shooing you towards the kids. “You’ve got places to be, there’s no time to waste on an old woman like me.” She smiles, but her voice is tight, like she’s fighting back tears. You nod, unable to say anything, and shuffle the kids down the long driveway to where the taxi’s waiting, before you can change your mind.

“Middleborough train station, please,” you say quietly to the driver, helping the smaller kids into the cramped van while Asgore and Undyne pile the suitcases into the back. You look up on the hill, and just barely see Esther’s silhouette still waiting on the hill. You wave, sticking your arm up as high as possible in the hopes that it will be seen. There’s a pause, and you’re beginning to think she didn’t see you when the figure shifts, and you can make out an arm waving in return. You smile a little, feeling a bit better. After all, Lilac said you’d be back someday. Maybe this isn’t the final goodbye. You step into the cab, the somber mood of the children settling over you, smothering you like a blanket. Just because Lilac said you’d be back, doesn’t mean the kids will. It’s hard to imagine life without them.

~~~~

The train ride is long and quiet, the heavily overcast sky throwing a dull grey light over the compartment, matching your mood. It’s the middle of the week, and not rush hour, so the train car is mostly empty, which is fortunate. What’s less fortunate, is that nobody in your party seems to feel like talking. The kids are all glumly pretending to color or sleep, except Papyrus, who is crawling as fast as he can up and down the train’s aisle. You sort of wish you were as carefree and easily contented as he is. Being a baby must be nice.

You shift in your seat, anxious and guilty. You know the kids’ downtrodden moods are your fault. The closest you’ve had to an actual conversation was the few thank you’s you received when you passed out lunch, and you miss the chatter that hasn’t seemed to stop since you first took them in. Even Undyne is unusually subdued, absently turning the bottle of fin salve over and over in her hands. You suddenly start humming, acting on a impulse, a need to fill the silence that has been hanging damply over you all morning. It’s a simple tune, one you remember Esther singing to you when you were small. None of the kids visibly react, but you think you might have heard Toriel sniffle.

“I’m sorry.” You say, your voice cracking a little. No one answers. Maybe humming wasn’t the best idea. “I know you were happy there, but we really did have to go. I have to get you all home, to your home, before something happens. I can’t explain it right now, but I promise I will…”

You stumble over your apology and break off, leaving the words to melt away in the heavy silence that has once again overtook you. There’s a long pause, and you drop your head into your hands, the weight of your guilt and their disdain filling your limbs and mind with a feeling like molten lead. You don’t move, and they don’t move, you feel a tug on your pant leg. You look down, surprised. Papyrus tugs again, more insistently this time. You slowly lower yourself to the ground, making it so you’re only a head taller than the small skeleton. Before you’re even fully sat down, Papyrus has toppled forward, clinging to your neck. You can’t quite tell if he’s hugging you or just catching himself, but you catch him in your arms, returning the hug as tightly as you can.

“Thanks, Paps.” You whisper, rubbing the tiny skeletons’ back. You look up at the others, and in a moment they’re clustered around you on the floor as well. None of them can fully reach around you, but that doesn’t mean they don’t try. You feel Alphys’ scaly cheek press against your arm, and a soft white paw - probably Toriel’s, it’s too small to belong to Asgore - brushes your cheek. Blooky and Mettaton hover around your head, half phasing through you. They’re a little cold, but the gesture isn’t. You can feel yourself smiling, and several of the younger monsters start giggling.

“C’mere, you all.” You manage a laugh, scooping up the closest kids and pulling them into your lap. You lean back against the seat, comforted by your horde of little ones. Here, underneath your affectionate pile of monsters, you can just barely see out of the train car window, but you’re still able to see the tips of the famous mountains surrounding the capital. The kids all scramble up to look, pressing their faces against the glass. When you join them at the window, you can see why. A brilliant city of metal and glass stands proudly in the distance, reflecting the light of the evening sun. It stands framed by the mountains, one monumental landform looming large and blue above everything else behind the vibrant city.  
“Warden,” you breathe, taking in the scene. “And Mount Ebott.” Your fingers are tingling. Half of you wants to yell in relief and triumph, but you’re only halfway there. Still, standing there, with your little family gathered around you, you think that Lilac might just have been right.

**Author's Note:**

> follow Kindertale on tumblr for everything on this AU! fic was written by me-myself-and-the-paradox, posted with permission, and i hope you all enjoy!


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